Page 23 of The Devil's Viking

“And what happens to these women?” Ice asked slowly.

“Nothing particularly good, as I’m sure you won’t be surprised to hear. The word around Salt Lake City PD is that they’re basically slaves-slash-prisoners who do all the chores and provide sex on tap. They also never leave the compound without some of the soldier guys chaperoning them. A select few women come into town for grocery shopping and that’s about the only time any of them are ever seen –it’s the same three women, but everyone knows there are more who just never come off the grounds. They go in but never come out.”

“How do they look? Physically?”

“You mean the women? Well… I don’t know.” King scratched the dark stubble on his chin. “Denton said they all wear the same outfit, a dress with an apron, and they all have long hair. Apparently they’re also tiny, like really small.”

“Child-like?” Ice asked, his throat constricted.

“Yeah, I guess. Maybe.”

“Oh, man.” Ice shut his eyes. “Shit.”

“What is it?” King said quietly; in all his years of knowing Ice, he’d never seen him look shaken. “Is this about a woman?”

“It’s about a lot of things.” Ice was already reaching for his cell in his jacket pocket. “Thanks, King.”

“You tell Wolf if he needs help with whatever all of this is, all he has to do is call me. King’s Men don’t ask questions.”

“I’ll let him know. Thanks again.”

“One more thing, kind of a big one,” King said. “Maybe I should have led with this, but the rumour is that Gideon isn’t above murder.”

“What?”

“No bodies so no proof, but a little while ago, one of the three women who would go into town for the shopping just disappeared, never to be seen again. Another one showed up in her place the next day, and is now a permanent fixture.”

“Why do people think the first woman was killed? Maybe she just went home.” Ice paused. “Well, assuming Gideon lets his flowers uproot themselves from the garden.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t count on it. The story that Denton got was that the woman was talking to some guy outside the bar in Walton, kind of flirting a little bit, and one of the cult guards grabbed her up and dragged her to the van. Apparently he was heard telling her that she’d be taken to Gideon for punishment for being a harlot, and she’d better pray that she lived to see the morning. The woman was crying and begging not to be taken to the basement.” King shrugged his massive shoulders. “The next day, she was gone and the new woman showed up.”

“Why the hell aren’t the cops storming this cult compound?” Ice demanded. “Checking on these women, looking for the one who just vanished?”

“They can’t, not legally. It’s private property so getting a search warrant is a nightmare without probable cause – and since everyone involved is an adult and theoretically there by choice, what grounds do the cops have to barge in? Unless and until someone from that place chooses to file a complaint or ask for help or provide eyewitness evidence of criminal activity, or if kids are involved, the cops are hamstrung. They have suspicions about bad shit happening behind the gates, but they can’t get inside to confirm anything. The fact that it’s a group claiming to be religious just complicates things even more.”

“Religious freedom, huh?”

“You got it. Nobody in law enforcement is going to forget the disaster of Waco anytime soon, so unless this Gideon loser is ritually sacrificing a woman on the streets of Walton, they’re reluctant to move on him.” King looked at Ice evenly. “Whatever Wolf does, whatever you guys are into, be careful. Cults aren’t known for being rational.”

Ice bolted through the garage, burst back outside, barely feeling the freezing wind from the Rockies ripping through his clothes. He punched the ‘1’ button on his phone and then waited as the line rang once, twice, got picked up.

“Wolf?” he said without preamble. “We got a problem, man. A fucking big one.”

Chapter Nine

Wolf hung up his phone, then took off across the bar and up the stairs without a word to anyone.

Scars and Cole exchanged glances; while this wasn’t particularly unusual behavior on Wolf’s part, it wasn’t reassuring. Scars got to his feet and followed his President. By the time he got to the second floor, Holt was alone in the hallway looking puzzled, and Scars could hear Wolf’s raised voice. He shrugged at Holt, continued down the hall to Iris’ room, shut the door, leaned against the wall and listened. Whatever the hell was happening now, he’d pick it up soon enough: Wolf was nothing if not direct.

“Listen up, girl,” Wolf was saying to a cowering Iris. “Last chance now and no fuckin’ around… who the fuck are you?”

“I’m – I’m nobody,” she stammered. “Just Iris.”

“‘Just Iris’nothin’. You’ve got somethin’ to do with that cult, don’t you? The Garden of Fuckin’ Sunbeams or whatever the hell it’s called.”

“The Garden of Divine Light,” she corrected him automatically, then it clearly occurred to her that she’d just given herself away. “I mean – I don’t know…”

“You know,” Wolf growled at her, and even Scars was alarmed at the level of sheer scariness in those two words. “You know, and you’re gonna stop treatin’ me like an idiot, and I meannow.”

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